


The Runaway Ringmaster

by lotus0kid



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Clowns, F/M, Mind Control, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Rumbelle Christmas in July 2019 (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 06:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19882795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotus0kid/pseuds/lotus0kid
Summary: A break-in at the Storybrooke Public Library leads to a very strange adventure for Belle French.





	The Runaway Ringmaster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Evilsnowswan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilsnowswan/gifts).



> Happy Rumbelle Christmas in July! This fic was written for [evilsnowswan](https://evilsnowswan.tumblr.com/) using the prompt "cursed circus runaway ringmaster".

The summer air in Storybrooke has been heavy all day. Still and thick. Clinging to skin like a wool sweater. Coloring the sky a bruised yellow. Weary relief blew through town when dark gray clouds started mounding up on the horizon. The citizens skittered for cover, and now they wait. One such soul is Belle French, who carries a glass of iced tea to her sofa and curls up at one end so she faces a cracked-open window. The storm clouds rode in with the night, so the view from her apartment above the library is pitch black. Her eyes slip shut to better savor a rain-scented breeze that ruffles her hair. Not long now.

She starts at the first purple-white flash in the dark. “One… two… three…” She makes it all the way to seven before hearing a distant rumble. She draws in and releases a breath. She smiles.

Soon enough, the void beyond her window is filled with sound and fury. Lashes of rain, blinding bolts of lightning, sky-ripping roars of thunder. Her floor is getting quite damp, but Belle doesn’t notice. Her hands are gripped around her glass, the beaded condensation dripping over her fingers while she absorbs the spectacle. Too soon, always too soon, the flashes shrink and slow, the thunder weakens to a mutter, the torrents of rain become a sprinkle. The show’s over.

Belle tips her head to one side with a pout. “That’s it?” she asks no one.

She’s answered by a sound. A crash, not of thunder but of glass, somewhere below. She half-jumps from her seat, and her empty cup drops and rolls across the floor as she darts out of her apartment and down the stairs into the library just a moment before wondering if it was a good idea. But it’s too late. She’s standing in the office, where the door that leads to the back of the building has had its window smashed and now hangs open. Among the shards is a figure on all fours, head sunk between the shoulders so it’s nearly on the ground. The figure sways a little, and almost seems to moan, or perhaps whimper.

“Um, h-hello?” Belle ventures, “Are you okay?”

She inches toward the light switch and flicks it on, flooding the room with harsh fluorescence and revealing something quite different from anything she might have expected. The figure appears to be male, and is wearing the most fantastic clothes Belle has ever seen. She identifies a tailcoat, dark but shimmering with a multi-hued iridescence that puts sequins and rhinestones to shame. The tails drape beautifully over tall leather boots, and skin-tight leather trousers creak as the figure rears back with a wail and blinks inhuman eyes up at the ceiling.

Belle gapes at the face of her unexpected visitor. Beneath a tangle of rain-damp curls are glistening green-gray-brown scales. Black-nailed and similarly scaly hands clench at either side of the strange face, which is twisted in agony. They dig in, tighter and tighter as a scream seems to build in the stranger’s throat and Belle finds herself leaping forward and swooping down to grasp his wrists.

“Hey! Hey, hey, please, don’t hurt yourself, just- take a breath, okay? Take a deep breath.”

Lizard-like eyes snap to her and burn with desperation. She sucks in a breath, not stopping until she sees the stranger’s narrow chest rise as he trembles through his own inhalation. She holds it as long as she dares, then releases slowly, as does the stranger, and his whole body sags as if his pain and distress were the only things holding him up. His forehead lands on her shoulder and she can only set careful hands on his back and let him stay there, breathing.

A small eternity later, a creaky voice murmurs, “Where am I?”

“Storybrooke Public Library,” Belle replies just as softly, “Where did you come from?”

“Somewhere… between nowhere… and everywhere… The place between… worlds.”

 _Might’ve preferred an address_ , Belle doesn’t say. “Okay, how can we get you back?”

The stranger reels away, clambering to his feet and mostly falling into a far corner. He thrusts his hands out like Belle is an attacking beast. “No! No- can’t- please… I barely escaped!”

Belle stays kneeling, holding up her own hands as she says, “Right, got it, you don’t want to go back, so- you won’t.”

Her gentle assertion only makes the stranger’s face crumple in misery. “No. No, I must. I had to break free… so I could go back. Clear my mind- to _fight_. To save him. I can’t run. I’ve got to go back.” He curls in on himself then, shrinking into the corner like a lost boy. “Can’t leave him. I’ve got to fight. To find him. Free him. I’ve got to…”

Belle stands and comes to him, sitting with her shoulder pressed to the wall. “Okay, enough vagaries. Let’s start small. What’s your name?”

“Rumpelstiltskin,” he replies, blinking his huge strange eyes at her.

She blinks back while the urge to call this whole thing a thoroughly bizarre and elaborate prank comes and goes. “And what’s the name of the person you need to help?”

“Baelfire. My son.”

This casts a surprising new shade on things, and presents about a million more questions Belle highly doubts she’ll ever get to ask. “And where did you escape from exactly?”

The misery in Rumpelstiltskin’s face turns to stone. “The circus of the Black Fairy.”

“And you were being held captive there?”

“I was born there. A whim of hers that struck when she tired of shades and illusions. They weren’t enough anymore to sate her twisted desires. She wanted flesh to torture. And so it began. Her collecting. Her control. Her disfigurations…” He holds up his hands and studies them with unfiltered loathing. “My son only exists because she willed it. And now she wants him. But she won’t have him. I know what love is, despite all she’s taught me. I learned it from him, my dearest Bae. But if it ever meant anything, if it ever mattered at all, then I must fight. Now. To free him. To end it. Forever.”

Belle swallows against a dry throat. “And, uh, how will you do it?”

Rumpelstiltskin’s mouth stretches into a brittle grin and he lets out a shrill titter. “I’ve no idea whatsoever. I can’t _think_ in the circus. None of us can. Out here, it’s different. Magic withers here. This world demands to be seen as it is. You… you would see clearly. You could resist the Black Fairy. For a time, anyway.”

“I could?”

Rumpelstiltskin rocks forward, his hand rising to catch Belle’s cheek. “It’s your eyes. So blue. Like the summer sky, yes? I forget sometimes. It’s always dark in between. But your eyes make me think of it. Make me remember _where_ I am. That my will is my own, and no one decides my fate but me. Can you see? Can you help me to see? To think?”

Belle doesn’t feel as though she’s thinking very clearly at the moment, as she’s quite suddenly noticed that Rumpelstiltskin’s face is rather handsome under the scales. “Um… do you mean, like… right now?”

“My son is in constant danger. It’s only a matter of time before the Black Fairy claims him. Please will you help me-” He pauses, squints, “What is your name?”

“Belle. French. Belle French.”

“Belle French. Will you help me save Baelfire?”

“I… I will.”

A strange sensation fizzes through her chest as the words stumble from her mouth and a true and beautiful smile spreads across Rumpelstiltskin’s face before he leans close enough to press his forehead to hers. Then they’re breathing together again, silent in this moment of potential. The voices of every person in Belle’s life who criticized her impulsiveness cry out in warning- she silences them. This is important. This is her chance to do something she never even realized she always wanted to do. To be a hero.

After a moment, she forces herself to move away, muttering, “Okay, so, I guess I’ll… change clothes? God, what do I even bring to battle the Black Fairy?”

“As little as possible,” Rumpelstiltskin replies, his face gone stony again, “Anything you have will only be used against you.”

“Right.” Belle spins on a heel and runs back to her apartment, and almost stumbles over the glass she dropped what feels like days ago. Stubbornly pushing aside the quiet suggestion that she’s having an intensely vivid mental break, she plunges forward, all but sprinting for her bedroom to change into her sturdiest travel clothes, for lack of any better idea of what to wear.

She pauses at the kitchenette on her way out, wondering if there might be fatal consequences if she doesn’t bring food and water. “It’ll just be used against me,” she states, and marches out the door with only her keys in hand, holding her breath until she sets eyes once again on Rumpelstiltskin, who mercifully remains an actual, living person in the library’s office.

He’s stood up in the middle of the room, head bowed with his hands loosely laced in front of him. He’s so still she almost thinks- well, never mind what she thinks, because he looks at her and the raw hope surging under the thinnest of stoic masks stops her in her tracks. A smile glances over his face. “You’ve not changed your mind, eh?”

Belle attempts a smile of her own as she says, “Not yet. I’ll let you know.”

“Right. Well. Shall we?”

“We shall.”

They approach the back door together and Rumpelstiltskin mutters an apology with a hand flicked at the broken window. “I needed to get inside. Somewhere. Anywhere.”

“No worries. I’ll deal with it when, um… well, afterward.” She certainly hopes there will be an afterward. She wonders what kind of person she’ll be then.

For now, she sets off into the night with the lizard-skinned man in tails by her side, on a quest to save the life of a beloved child. Her stomach can’t seem to decide whether to flutter or clench. She finds her arm wrapping around Rumpelstiltskin’s, just for a little stability as they walk over soggy ground. A full moon rides high overhead, looking all the brighter in the storm-washed sky.

“Do you remember which way you came from?” Belle asks.

“I remember trees at first. And then… small structures made of iron and wood, that stood on spongy earth. Very strange.”

“That sounds like the playground by the park. It’s this way.”

It’s a walk Belle could make in her sleep. She loves venturing into the nearby nature park, walking its winding trails until she finds the perfect spot to enjoy a picnic lunch and a book or three. The forest is kept mostly wild to preserve the ecosystem. There’s no possible way a circus of any size could fit in it. And yet, as she and Rumpelstiltskin journey into the park, they don’t even have to go very far before she sees something lighting up the shadows between the trunks. Something huge, and red, and bell-shaped, and far, far, _far_ too large to be where it is. Dozens of trees have somehow ceased to exist in order to accommodate what can only be described as an otherworldly circus tent.

“Ah, home sweet home,” Rumpelstiltskin growls, “Do you like it?”

Belle can’t force out a sound as she is led to the drawn-back flaps of the tent.

“Stay with me,” he tells her, “Keep my eyes clear, keep my brain my own. She can’t control you. And if you stop her from controlling me, she’s powerless.”

“Y-yeah.”

“And if it all goes wrong, get out, however you can. I’ll do anything to save Bae, but he won’t want me to sacrifice an innocent.”

“Sure.”

They step inside and the tent flaps ripple shut behind them. Somehow the space within is even larger than the outside. Golden light spills from free-floating orbs over tiers of bench seating set up around the requisite three rings. The tent seems empty, until Belle hears footsteps approaching to their right, past Rumpelstiltskin. She turns to find a very short clown, his bald head painted white except for red diamonds over his eyes and beneath a dense salt-and-pepper beard. He lifts a black silk top hat which he plops on Rumpelstiltskin’s head. Belle feels a shiver pass through him, and his head lowers.

“Rumpelstiltskin?” she says, “Rumpel, look at me. Hey-”

“Ah, my darling son!” cries a new voice. Her head jerks forward to see a woman approaching, already too close for Belle not to have seen her earlier. She’s dark-haired and gorgeous, wearing a Victorian-style black dress that glitters with iridescence just like Rumpelstiltskin’s coat. The woman is beaming joyfully, hands reaching out to grip Rumpelstiltskin’s arm where Belle holds it, forcing her to let go. She steps back and can only watch in mounting confusion as the Black Fairy addresses Rumpelstiltskin, “You’ve returned so soon! I never should’ve doubted your skills. It seems this world is a fine hunting ground after all.”

Belle’s stomach churns and she’s barely started to search for an escape when she’s pinned by the Black Fairy’s narrow gaze.

“Your selection is a little puny for my taste, but nothing I can’t work with. I’m so proud.”

Belle swallows hard, balls up her fists, and forces a little steel into her spine to say, “Rumpelstiltskin and I are here for Baelfire. Just… give him up, and we’ll go. That’s it.”

The Black Fairy purses her lips and tilts her head in faux pity. “Oh dearie, do you really think you’re in a position to make demands of your new mistress?”

“You’re not my fucking mistress!” Belle spits. “Rumpelstiltskin, _look at me!_ ” She lunges forward, reaching for the hat she dares to guess is the source of the Black Fairy’s control, mostly because she can’t let herself think he tricked her. However, the clown appears between them and smacks her hand away. He’s no taller than Belle, but he appears to be made of solid muscle, and the soulless blank within his eyes withers her courage.

The Black Fairy lets out a ringing laugh. “You’ll soon learn your proper place. In fact, I’ll let my other pets show you. Try not to die. But, then again, there’s plenty more where you came from. I’m certain my son can simply fetch another.”

She’s leading Rumpelstiltskin away. Confusion and anger and growing fear swarm in Belle. She screams at his back, “Rumpel, listen to me! _Look_ at me! _What about Bae?!_ ”

He flinches then, and seems about to turn around, when the Black Fairy’s voice whips out, “Ringmaster! Your audience awaits!”

He shivers again, his back straightens, his shoulders relax. Black mist swarms through the tent, resolving into myriad ghostly forms with glowing eyes who take seats on the benches. Belle might have tried to go for the hat again, but a cloud of purple smoke puffs up around Rumpelstiltskin’s feet and carries him into the air. He glides around the tent, announcing with outstretched arms, “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to the circus of the Black Fairy!”

The audience cheers, though it sounds more like the death rattle of an enormous invisible beast. The glowing orbs flash along with them until Rumpelstiltskin brings a finger to his lips. Then the crowd falls silent, and the orbs’ light fades. A new light falls on the ring closest to Belle. It’s stark and cold as pale blue moonlight. The clown’s rough hand grabs Belle’s arm and drags her forward, all but throwing her over the edge to stumble into the harsh light.

“Oh no,” croons Rumpelstiltskin from above, “Look at the outcast. She has committed a terrible crime, no doubt, and has been banished from the hearths and hearts of her people. Left alone to face the ultimate punishment.”

Belle cringes under the condemning gazes of the audience before straightening and turning on a heel, looking for Rumpelstiltskin in the gloom beyond the light. “Rumpel!” she cries, “Listen to me! You don’t have to do this! _Please_ , think of B-”

She’s interrupted by a wolf’s howl that stops her heart. It came from inside the tent. And now she hears paws racing along the packed earth floor, glimpses dark fur running past outside the light.

 _Try not to die_ , the Black Fairy said. Which would suggest it’s _possible_ not to die, wouldn’t it? It’s a meager offering from her innate optimism, but it’s all Belle has to cling to as ten wolves leap into the ring. Twenty eyes blaze yellow as the animals draw their lips back from jagged white fangs and growl in an unearthly harmony that turns Belle’s knees to water. But then somewhere in the dark a whip cracks, and the growls fall silent.

A woman steps into the ring dressed similarly to Rumpelstiltskin except the tails are replaced by a red cloak. She flicks back the hood to reveal a beautiful, hard face with eyes that also glow yellow and survey the wolves with a blank stare.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Rumpelstiltskin declares, “Welcome to the ring the savage queen of the wolf pack, Ruby!”

The woman’s only response to the cacophony of ghostly cheers is a slight nod. Then she cracks her whip, and the wolves run a neat clockwise circle around her and Belle. Another crack, they turn and run counterclockwise. Another crack, they stop and rise with their front legs pawing at the air. Another crack, they throw their heads back and howl as one, Ruby adding her own rich voice to their song. Belle stares at her, wondering just how human she is until a wolf darts by and snaps at her heel. She jumps away and staggers to avoid bumping into Ruby, ending up on her knees and watching as the wolves run again, this time in a figure-eight, weaving between each other and between her and Ruby back and forth.

Belle is so mesmerized by the dance it takes longer than it should to notice one wolf who has stopped and now stares her down, saliva dribbling from its jaws as it tenses to spring. Mortal terror packs her limbs with lead, leaving her helpless in the face of certain death. She sees it lunge, and then she sees red. The red cloak, rippling on Ruby’s shoulders as she steps between Belle and the wolf and cracks her whip.

“Ah ha!” Rumpelstiltskin crows, “It seems the wolf queen will keep this morsel for herself!”

Ruby snaps and snarls and the attacking wolf cowers and scuttles off to rejoin the pack, which Ruby herds into a small section of the ring behind Belle.

The conscious thought doesn’t even entirely form in Belle’s mind, she just finds herself up and running. She casts a glance over her shoulder to see Ruby’s face now elongated and sprouting fur. The wolf queen lets out a yell that ends in a howl and the whole pack leaps up and runs with her, runs after Belle, who bolts mindlessly forward.

When she hits the canvas wall of the tent, her hands scrabble at it desperately. Where did she enter? Where did the tent flap open? It must be somewhere. She chokes on a cry as she glances to her left and sees the thuggish clown from before marching toward her, accompanied by at least three more of his kind. Her fingers manage to snag on some loose threading along a seam in the tent. She tears at it in the faintest hope she might make a hole.

She manages to jam her fingers through, and with a groan of effort rips the tent open, tumbling out of it just as the first wolf jumps and sails past as she squeezes herself into a ball. More wolves follow, a wave of furry bodies spilling into the true moonlight outside the tent. Belle wraps her arms around her head, cowering as she waits for the first hard bite.

But it doesn’t come. There are no bites. No snarls. Not even any growls. Belle peeks between her forearms and finds the whole pack has gone still. They aren’t looking at her. They gaze upward at the silvery full moon floating past. For a long moment, it’s the only thing that exists.

Then there’s a sound- a red cloak fluttering to the ground. Ruby half-turns to Belle. Her eyes still glow yellow, but a smile, weak from disuse, graces her face. “I… I forgot,” she murmurs, “You reminded me. Thank you.”

Belle swallows against a throat still tight with terror. “You’re welcome.”

Then Ruby turns into a wolf, and the pack bounds into the park, gone in seconds. Belle blinks at the spot where she last saw them, mind utterly reeling even as one thought becomes clear. She should go. She should just get up, and walk away. Return to reality. Forget this ever happened. Forget the Black Fairy. Forget Rumpelstiltskin. Forget Baelfire, if he ever really existed. It’s the only sane option.

The park, safe but for its new lupine residents, beckons to her.

She stands up. She turns around, and leans into the hole she tore in the tent. The clowns grab her and drag her back in. She’s hauled into the ring on the far side, which is lit a lurid orange. The clowns, seven strong now, station themselves around her, penning her in.

“This reprobate is more nefarious than she seems!” Rumpelstiltskin declares from his floating cloud to the furious hissing of the audience. “She must be shown the error of her ways! Come forth, archer extraordinaire, Sir Robin of Locksley!”

“Robin… Hood?” Belle wonders while the crowd cheers a man who steps out into the circle where the wolf pack was, its cold faux moonlight replaced with the golden green of a summer forest. It’s a little hard to tell from this distance, but he appears to be walking on dark-furred fox feet. A long, full tail flicks behind him and the iconic feathered cap shrouds his face in darkness. The most normal thing about him is the bow in his hand and quiver of arrows slung across his back.

Belle hasn’t begun to process this bizarre sight when Rumpelstiltskin shouts, “And with him as always, the beauteous Maid Marian!”

A woman steps into the ring with Belle. Most of her form is shrouded in a pale cloak, but Belle glimpses the hem of a floor-length dress. She draws back her hood to reveal fox ears emerging from dark curls, and her nose ends in a black snout. She doesn’t smile for the crowd. She looks miserable. As miserable as Rumpelstiltskin did at the library. She comes to stand behind Belle, taking hold of her wrists and lifting both of their arms in a T-shape facing Robin. Four cloud puffs the size of dinner plates appear above and below their arms.

In the far circle, Robin nocks an arrow and aims. And Marian brings her mouth to Belle’s ear. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers just before arrow after arrow flies, each neatly hitting the cloud puffs like they’re solid targets to the audience’s ghastly delight.

The puffs float off to return the arrows to Robin, and when gut-twisting adrenaline allows, Belle whispers back, “You’re awake. You’re not under the Black Fairy’s control.”

Marian starts and puts as much space between her and Belle as she can while still holding on. “I… I’m not. For the moment.”

While a cloud puffs appear above their heads and on either side of their hips Belle says, “I’m here to help Rumpelstiltskin save Baelfire.” Even now she must force herself to ask, “Did he trick me? Did he lie about his son?”

Marian sighs. Three arrows shot simultaneously hit the puffs. “Yes, but he didn’t realize he was lying. When the Black Fairy wants someone new for the circus, she makes him think he’s escaped, that he can save Baelfire if he gets help. He’s been trying to save Baelfire ever since he was born.”

Horror chills Belle’s blood. “Oh god, poor Rumpel,” she gasps, “How long has it been?”

A new puff appears over their heads. Robin takes aim with the bow held behind his back. Marian says, “I don’t know. It’s… almost impossible to keep track of time here. I’ve never seen Baelfire. He might not even be alive.”

An arrow hits the puff, and Belle’s heart sinks as she wonders if it would be better or worse if he was dead. Rumpelstiltskin said Baelfire wouldn’t want his father to hurt innocent people to help him. But that’s exactly what he’s been doing. And Belle could’ve run. She could’ve been one less person for Rumpelstiltskin to feel guilty about. But she stayed, because she still wants to be a hero. “You’re not being controlled- why don’t you get out of here?”

Four new puffs form above and below their arms again. Robin takes aim with his face turned away.

“I _can’t_ ,” Marian replies in a quaking voice, “Robin is my husband. I love him. I can’t leave him here. But I can’t wake him either. The Black Fairy made sure of it the second she found out about-”

Her words stop as an arrow hits a puff. “About what, Marian?”

She doesn’t speak, just moves closer. Close enough for her rounded belly to meet Belle’s back.

“Oh no,” Belle sighs.

“Hard to imagine worse timing, isn’t it?” Marian quips bitterly. Another arrow hits a puff. “I… I should leave. I know. Robin would want me to. For our child’s sake. I’m running out of time. But I just can’t. Not without him.”

Belle feels the pain of Marian’s impossible choice clamp on her heart. “You woke up when you realized you were pregnant, right?”

“Yes.” A third arrow hits a puff.

“But you can’t wake Robin.”

“I never see him except when he’s shooting arrows at me. The Black Fairy keeps him in a stupor the rest of the time.”

“Okay, well, he’s not shooting at you right now. He’s shooting at me.” The fourth arrow hits a puff and the audience roars like the ghost of a lion.

“And that means…?”

“I’ll make a distraction. You get to Robin and wake him up. Then you run together.”

“But what if you get hit?”

Belle tilts her head back to grin at Marian. “Isn’t the point of the act to just _almost_ hit me?”

“Not if the Black Fairy decides it isn’t.”

Belle pretends she didn’t hear that as she only has a brief grace period while the puffs carry the arrows back to Robin. She summons all the speed and agility she might possess, and bolts out of the ring, diving between two clowns and setting off on a wild serpentine path.

Somewhere above, Rumpelstiltskin shrieks, “Escape! Escape! The criminal is loose! Sir Robin, shoot her down!”

 _That was a quick program change_ , Belle thinks with a cringe. She dares to look for Marian and sees her slip free of a clown’s grip by unclasping her cloak. She runs for Robin, who is drawing a sight on Belle. She stops short and picks a new direction to sprint. However, the bearded clown snags her arm and she can’t break free before one of his fellows hooks her other arm. She’s hauled around to face Robin, but sees Marian has reached him. She yanks down the hand that draws back the bow string- the arrow clatters to the floor, forgotten as Marian presses Robin’s hand to her stomach.

Robin shudders. He drops the bow, and swipes the feathered cap from his head, finally revealing his face. Shocked joy radiates from it, and he leans into the touch as Marian presses her palm to his cheek. Then he sweeps her into a tight embrace.

They deserve to stay like that forever, but Belle is forced to call, “Robin, Marian, look out! The clowns!”

Three of the painted thugs are closing in on the couple. Fury clouds over Robin’s joy and he snatches up his bow and nocks an arrow. “Stay away from me and my wife!” he commands, “Don’t make me put this to good use!”

The only response is one clown rushing forward. Half a second later, Robin’s arrow buries itself high on the clown’s shoulder. He cries and stumbles, and Belle feels a shudder go through the hands on her arms.

“DOC!” shouts the bearded clown, letting go of Belle and racing to the injured one. Her other captor isn’t far behind, nor are any of the remaining clowns, their previous duties apparently forgotten.

Belle shakes out her bruised arms before peering up to find Rumpelstiltskin on his cloud. “Now there’s no one left to control!” she informs him, “Please wake up, Rumpel. Let’s find out what’s happened to Baelfire together!”

She can’t quite read his face from this distance, but the cloud begins to sink. Then there’s a sound behind Belle, and steely hands grab under her arms, lifting her up before she can do more than squeak.

“And now for the final act!” Rumpelstiltskin exclaims while his cloud soars high, “None other than the Black Fairy’s very own Flying Swans! Will the criminal survive their death-defying feats of aerial prowess? Let’s find out!”

Belle hears this as the world spins and swirls and she’s hoisted into the air and white light blazes all around. She notices a length of ivory silk dangling nearby and snatches at it desperately. The hands holding her let go and she lets out a shriek before her limbs clamp around the smooth fabric. The floor of the center ring seems miles away, the tiny figures of the clowns and Robin and Marian gathering underneath, staring up at her.

She can barely force herself to fling an arm at them and shout, “Go! Get out of here! Don’t get caught again!”

Marian shouts something back, but she’s too far away to hear. Or the panicked pulse in her ears is too loud. Her muscles are already burning. The work of a librarian does involve lifting heavy books, but usually not more than a few at a time. And while Belle toyed with the idea of buying a treadmill with a book stand, she never quite got around to it. She mourns this and many other dreams as she hangs with hope dwindling faster than her strength.

Meanwhile, her kidnapper has swung up to stand with two others on a platform. She’s a young woman, slender and supple with long blonde hair cascading around her shoulders. She poses between a man and a woman who appear to be in their early fifties, though their physiques are equally toned. They all wear white leotards decorated with glittering sequins and lines of snowy feathers, and gauntlets of ornately tooled white leather. The lower half of the man’s face is obscured by a black beak and the woman’s legs end in webbed feet.

While the Swans preen for the roaring whisper of the crowd, Belle begins inching her way down the silk. She only makes it a foot before the two female Swans swing past her and grab the silk, pulling and releasing so it sways back and forth and Belle can only yelp and hang on for dear life. She’s hardly slowed when the remaining Swan comes to give the silk another hard yank that sends it spinning. Belle can feel the traitorous burn in her fingers weakening her grip.

“Please stop!” she screams, “Rumpel, _please help me!_ ”

She gets no reply. Barely spots his cloud hovering in a far shadowed corner. He will not wake. Not for her. The need to shatter the Black Fairy’s control must be soul-deep. It comes from love. The wolf pack loved the moon. The clowns loved their brother Doc. Marian and Robin loved their unborn child.

With her thoughts snagging on an idea she can’t quite interpret, Belle kicks one leg so the silk wraps around it, finally taking some strain off her arms and giving a hint of stability, even as she feels it constrict around her thigh. She looks to the Swans, and notes an echo in the youngest of the man’s pale hair and the woman’s chin. Parents and child, Belle would bet anything. Another family trapped and forced to endure the Black Fairy’s torments. It’s terrible. And it’s something Belle can work with.

The acrobats are flinging themselves past her on either side now, somersaulting through the air to catch a leg or an arm on a ready swing. It’s quite the show, especially from Belle’s up close view and despite the eerie blankness on the Swans’ faces. She watches, waiting for the right moment, working up her nerve. If she’s wrong… She doesn’t think she is… But if she is…

Her nerve is starting to falter when the older woman goes by and snags Belle’s arm, breaking her grip on the silk. She falls backwards and only the strength of her thighs keeps her from plummeting to the floor. As it is, she’s left dangling upside down, and all hesitation is gone. When the youngest swings past, Belle grabs the first part of her she can reach and pulls.

A gasp flies from the spectral audience. The youngest Swan’s perfect somersault technique is broken, and Belle sees real terror on her face as she starts to fall. Time elongates as their gazes catch and hold. _Please let this work, please tell me I didn’t kill her._

Two cries burst from the platform and the remaining Swans dive for their child. As they drop, white feathers burst from their arms, ripping apart the leather gauntlets. They swoop down on white wings and catch the falling acrobat, landing in a whirl of dust on the floor. Their wings stay tented over each other for a long moment. When they slowly retreat, the youngest has her arms looped around her mother’s neck. She pulls away and looks at both parents with wonder in her eyes as if she’s just woken from a long nightmare. “Mom… Dad?”

“Emma!” the woman cries and attempts to hug her daughter, only to realize her arms have transformed fully into enormous wings. “Gods, David, what has the Black Fairy done to us now?”

“Um, that was me, sort of,” Belle says sheepishly while slowly rotating from the silk above their heads, “Sorry, but you were trying to kill me. I had to wake you up. Uh, Emma, was it? I’m really glad you’re not hurt, but… um, can you help me down please?”

Emma stares up at her for a moment, then rises. She climbs up a pole in seconds, clambering onto a swing and pushing off to sail out and catch hold of the silk. She makes room so Belle can join her and slip free of the loop around her leg. Belle imagines this would be a great time for Emma to take revenge for what could be interpreted as a murder attempt, but she just lets go of the silk so they return to the platform. Belle winces as she takes weight on her strangled leg- Emma holds her steady and her parents supervise as they climb down the pole one after the other.

Once everyone is on the ground, Robin, Marian, and the clowns come to join Belle and the Swans. An awful hiss like a whole jungle’s worth of snakes swells up from the audience. Belle cringes and looks to the stands, wondering against her will if the black ghosts are going to swirl up into a tsunami and crush them all.

“Ladies and gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen,” Rumpelstiltskin says in a mollifying tone as his cloud glides low, “Deepest apologies for this irregular occurrence. The criminal will now be removed from the premises.” He claps his hands, “Guards, seize her!”

Nobody moves. The clowns glance at each other. The one with the beard adjusts his hold on the wounded Doc and asks, “Are you talking to us, pal?”

Rumpelstiltskin doesn’t respond. It seems the Black Fairy’s programming hasn’t accounted for losing so much control.

The crowd’s hiss grows louder. They seem to be congealing into a mass of glittering eyes and black mist. Then they lunge, and do indeed swirl around in a black storm. But nothing much happens aside from Marian flicking a fox ear. They really are shadows, with just as much weight and force. Their furor is expended quickly, and they seep away into the floor.

After a beat, David sweeps a wing over Rumpelstiltskin’s head, knocking off his top hat. He wavers, and the cloud beneath him dissolves. A couple of clowns and Robin catch him as he drops the last few feet and hangs in their arms, looking lost.

Belle pads closer, warily asking, “Rumpel, are you okay? Please wake up.”

His mouth is moving, muttering something too quiet to hear. Belle dares to touch his scaly cheek, and just as her palm makes contact the tent flaps at the far end blast open to reveal the Black Fairy daintily holding a thick chain in her hands. It jerks slightly every few seconds but she maintains her grip. She tilts her head with a look of bemusement. “What’s this then? Ringmaster, what has become of our circus?”

Rumpelstiltskin struggles to his feet and his brow furrows, but still no audible words make it out of his mouth.

Belle summons up the dregs of her courage, and steps forward. “It’s over. I’ve woken them all up. Everyone except Rumpelstiltskin. So just let him go, and give us Baelfire, and this will all be done with.”

The Black Fairy gives a slight nod. “Ah. You want Baelfire. Right. Very well then. Take him.”

She yanks hard on the chain and drops it, and Belle hears enormous running footsteps approaching from the darkness outside the tent. In seconds, a huge figure bursts through, bellowing as it goes. Its shape is mostly human, but crossed with something perhaps like a gorilla and made twice as tall. The ogre-like creature swings massive fists as it runs, forcing nearly everyone to flee. Belle grabs Rumpelstiltskin’s hand and tries to pull him away but he doesn’t budge.

“Kill them all, my pet!” the Black Fairy trills, “Then we’ll start fresh.”

“Rumpel, Rumpel, wake up, we have to move!” Belle urges, and still gets no response beyond some twitching of his stiff body.

The ogre has stopped where some of the clowns have taken shelter under the stands. It slams its fists on the wood, bashing away at the structure but making more of a mess than getting at its prey. It snorts in frustration, and turns its attention to where the Swans have flown up to the trapeze platforms. It hammers on the pole where David and Emma perch above, snarling up at them as they cower.

An arrow flies from a far corner, striking the ogre in the back. A protest jumps into Belle’s throat not to hurt it if it really is Baelfire and not a trick of the Black Fairy’s. In any case, the wound only seems to infuriate the ogre, who rounds on Robin and unleashes an earth-shaking roar. It charges, and Robin nocks another arrow, this one aimed directly at its eye.

And Belle finds herself running, screaming, “Here! Here! Over here! This way, this way, this way!”

For better or worse, she gets the ogre’s attention. It veers from Robin and instead bears down on her. Belle once again bolts blindly, left with nothing but the hope of a miracle occurring sometime in the next few seconds.

All of her attention is so focused on her mad sprint, she almost doesn’t notice when the thunderous footsteps behind her stop. She skids to a halt and whips around to see the ogre standing slump-shouldered before Rumpelstiltskin. It’s not roaring, not snarling, not smashing him to pieces with its fists. The pair have locked eyes, and almost seem to be communicating with no words at all.

Rumpelstiltskin’s hands rise, and, as softly as if the ogre was an infant, places them on its sunken, gray-skinned cheeks. “My boy,” he whispers, “I’m so sorry I let her get you.”

“BEAST!” the Black Fairy shrieks, “Destroy them all! I will be obeyed!”

She picks up and tugs the chain to make the ogre jerk. It sags until it’s almost bent double, seeming suddenly exhausted.

“It’s all right, son,” Rumpelstiltskin continues, voice gentle and sad as he cradles its head, “It’s all right if you can’t fight her. At least I got to see you one last time. That’s enough.”

The ogre draws in and huffs out a breath that puffs up a cloud of dust. Then it grabs the chain and pulls with the force of twenty men. The Black Fairy is immediately yanked off her feet and lands face-first on the floor.

“H-how dare you?” she chokes on her own words, coughing and sputtering and pushing herself up on her hands, glittering black dress thoroughly besmirched by dirt, “I control you. I _OWN_ YOU! BAELFIRE! YOU. ARE. _MINE!_ ”

Baelfire walks to her as she bellows, laces his thick fingers together, raises his joined hands, and brings them down on her head.

Some kind of enormous breath seems to blow through the tent, and it starts to dissolve from the top down as if it was made of soap bubbles. Emma descends from the pole as it vanishes. Her parents swoop to the floor on wings that are also dissipating. Marian runs to Robin as her fox ears evaporate and her human nose returns. He stumbles into her arms as his feet become human and his tail disappears. The Black Fairy’s body turns to ash and drifts away unremarked.

“Emma! Snow!” David shouts with his newly regained human mouth, and it spreads into a beaming smile as he wraps his featherless arms around them both.

The ogre’s bulk melts from Baelfire, the arrow clattering onto the park’s paved walkway. In moments, all that’s left is a slim young man, who looks up with deep brown eyes and grins at his father.

Rumpelstiltskin reaches out to his son, and Belle sees the scales are gone leaving smooth skin behind. Baelfire barrels into him, arms locking around him like he won’t ever let go. They’ve turned enough so Belle can see Rumpelstiltskin’s face. His eyes are closed in the perfect picture of contented relief.

“I’m sorry,” Baelfire mumbles into Rumpelstiltskin’s neck, “I had to. I couldn’t let her… She was gonna…”

“I know. I know, son, it’s all right. Everything is fine. I’ve got you back now.” His eyes open, revealing Baelfire’s shade of bottomless brown as they fix on Belle. He also grins Baelfire’s grin.

She smiles back, and swipes at tears welling up in her eyes. Rumpelstiltskin and Baelfire manage to let go with one arm each, just enough so they can walk to Belle without tripping.

Rumpelstiltskin stares at her like she’s made of pure magic. “Your eyes saw clearly. You kept your will. You fought for us, for _all_ of us. I can never repay you.”

Belle’s smile tightens to keep her from blubbering. “So you remember saying all that. I thought you were being controlled.”

“Oh no. It was a bit of my mother’s cleverness- genuinely setting me free, but for a few lingering instructions.”

“Well, you _are_ free now. For good, I promise. And, ah… I don’t suppose any of you have a place to go.”

“None of us belong in this world. And we have no way home, not now.”

“Right. Okay. It’ll be a tight fit, but you’re all welcome to come back to my place. _If_ you help clean up the glass you broke.”

Rumpelstiltskin’s grin turns slightly pained, but he replies, “Deal.”

Belle and the former troupe of the Black Fairy’s circus walk out of the park and back to the library. Over the following weeks, Belle sees to the comfort of her fourteen new roommates as best she can. Meanwhile, Rumpelstiltskin works on accessing the magic he inherited from his mother. It makes him feel soiled to do so, but it’s the only way to send his friends back to the worlds they were taken from. Robin and Marian are first to go, before her pregnancy can advance much further. Rumpelstiltskin and Belle go with them to the spot where the circus stood, where the residual magic is strongest. He opens a portal to what Belle can only describe as Sherwood Forest. The pair say their fond farewells and walk through.

The clowns, or dwarves as it happens, are next, once Doc’s shoulder wound is fully healed. Their portal opens on a glimmering subterranean city that all seven race into with whoops and cheers of homecoming.

One night, a black wolf appears when Belle is in the park on her own. It stiffens and shudders, becoming Ruby in a series of awkward, jerky movements. The pack has sensed Rumpelstiltskin’s use of magic and come to investigate. Belle offers to have him send them home, but Ruby defers. The magic that splits her being in two is waning, and she has decided to embrace her wolf form, as has the rest of the pack. She shifts back, and darts away into the woods. Belle never sees the pack again, though at one point she reads an article about some excited wildlife researchers reporting the long hoped-for appearance of wolves in southern Maine.

The planned departure of David, Snow, and Emma becomes complicated. It seems Baelfire and Emma have sparked a connection, both with each other and the world they’ve found themselves in. They don’t want to leave either.

One evening while Belle and Rumpelstiltskin re-shelve books, he sighs, “It’s beyond me. I- I don’t know what to do.”

Belle knows she must tread carefully, that there are aspects and implications here she can’t even fathom. “When, or if, Emma and her parents return to their world, where would you and Bae go?”

“Oh, I don’t know. For a few years as a child my mother left me with a pair of spinsters. She snatched me back when she decided they couldn’t play with her toy, but I think I remember the feel of that world. Perhaps I can find it again.”

“Okay. Or… it’s possible you could just- stay.” She blinks up at him, trying to hide the hope in her eyes, knowing she’s failed as he coughs and looks away.

“I- we couldn’t. Couldn’t impose any more than we already have. It’s not fair to you.”

“What if I don’t care about what’s fair?”

She clenches her jaw but the question stubbornly remains asked and now she must look up at Rumpelstiltskin and assess the damage. Quite different from any affront, she sees a glint of her own hope shining back at her.

She swallows, and presses on, “What if…? What if I don’t want you to leave?” _Impulsive, too impulsive_ , mutter the voices of judgment in her head, but she just can’t bend to their criticism, any more than she could obey the Black Fairy. “I know it’ll be… difficult at times. This isn’t your world, but… I think you could be happy here. With me. O-or wherever.”

Belle’s heart thumps as Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes go soft and deep and she wonders faintly when they got this close to each other. “You know,” he murmurs, “There’s hardly any magic left where the circus was.”

“Oh?”

“If I tried to open a portal, it might not work. Might collapse and leave whoever went through stranded in between.”

“That would be awful.”

“It certainly would.”  
  
“Might be best not to risk it.”

“Perhaps you’re right.”

Twin smiles bloom on their faces. Warmth bubbles up in Belle’s chest and glows pink in her cheeks. She turns away, reaching for a book. Rumpelstiltskin reaches for one as well, and if their hands happen to brush in a way that might be construed as deliberate- well, they are free to do so.


End file.
